


Out of Iran

by bedb



Category: Marvel
Genre: Betrayal, Cold War, F/M, First Love, General Zhukov, Iran, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedb/pseuds/bedb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia wants to tear apart America's alliance with Iran in 1958</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the mission

Nikita Khrushchev was the new prime minister of the Soviet Union vowing to crush America beneath his boot heel. Lovely rhetoric and the Americans were paying close attention to him. After all within months of his election, Sputnik 3 was in orbit around the earth alarming their captured German scientists who were playing catch-up, but then the Americans were flying recon missions from Turkey and Iran in C-130s, and the Shah was a good friend of America. It was in Russia’s best interest to break up those alliances. Turkey was not going to be easy, but Iran was ripe for the taking. The Shah was a Sunni Moslem and his subjects were Shi’ites, mortal enemies from the beginning of the Islam faith. How hard could it be?

Hard enough when fools were doing it. Zola sat in on the meeting at the Soviet High Command, his American handlers believing he was in Istanbul examining Soviet intel taken along the Armenian Turkish border by the last fly over. No one dared question his loyalty to America; after all, weren’t the Germans fanatically anticommunist? As he was always pointing out to them, he was Swiss and Hydra didn’t care who was in charge so long as Hydra controlled the strings.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he finally interrupted the cadre of army generals and their subordinates. “You have the greatest killing machine since Caesar’s trebuchet and no one has even mentioned him.”

General Zhukov, hero of heroes, most decorated general of all time, the man who captured Berlin, gazed ominously down the long table at Zola. “We have considered him.” 

“Oh, and when was this?” Zola asked curiously, his voice edged with skepticism.

Zhukov folded his hands on top of the table and stared at the Hydra chief with dark eyes. Zola was a useful man, but sometimes he assumed too much. Zola answered to him not the other way around. Tearing his eyes away from Zola’s arrogant face, he dismissed the other men at the table.

Once the room was emptied, Zhukov leaned towards the American traitor and said, “You will not question me in front of others.”

Zola’s face remained unchanged. “What of Sgt. Barnes?”

Zhukov relented. “We are sending him into Iran to assassinate a Shi’ite holy man, yet to be determined. With Nasser making overtures to us against Faisal now would be the perfect time to act. There are many in Iran who have not forgotten that just five years ago the CIA overthrew Mohammed Mossadegh, because he wanted to nationalize the oil industry. The Baghdad Pact in 1955, that unholy alliance between Iraq and other Middle Eastern states to deprive us of resources will not get them where they want. The Iraqis are Sunnis, the Persians Shiites. One of our options is to make the hit look like it was Iraqi in origin.”

“Why not American?” Zola asked thoughtfully.

“That is an option.”

“It’s the only option,” Zola corrected him. “How hard would it be to make it look like a CIA attack on the Shiites. Have Sgt. Barnes enter Turkey and then escape back to Russia through Armenia.”

Zhukov bobbed his head with interest. “How do we convince the Shiites it was American?”

“Don’t you have someone who can go among them and say it was American?”

“A plant?”

Zola tried to not role his eyes. Was he going to have to paint a picture for the man? “You will also have to leave a body behind as proof for your plant to find and identify.”

“Not the Soldier?”

“Of course not. Send someone with him…someone expendable who speaks English and is loyal to Russia. At no time must the Soldier as you call him fall into enemy hands. If capture becomes imminent, he must be prepared to take his own life.”

“Already considered,” Zhukov growled.

Zola sat up straighter. “May I see him?”

Zhukov grinned. Four years earlier Sgt. Barnes had tried to kill Zola and the other men on his restoration team. Mental recalibrating and coming out of a two month deep freeze might not improve his demeanor towards Zola. “Certainly.”

The Winter Soldier as he was known in the Red Room was being reactivated after two months on ice. He had been contained for several years and reawakened for an assignment two years ago, then this past winter he started acting erratic and protective towards one of the girls in the Black Widow program. Fortunately they got to him before he got to her. A thorough exam by one of the matrons showed she was still a virgin. This was important for many reasons. Black Widows were trained to be little more than prostitutes where sex was concerned. They promised the moon but felt nothing themselves. Sex was a job not pleasure. Whores didn’t fall in love or have orgasms.

There had been talk about castrating the Soldier, but Zhukov had nixed that idea. It was his experience that eunuchs became passive, losing their aggressive natures with the loss of their testicles. He didn’t want the Soldier spreading his seed around, but he didn’t want him an old gelding either.

And that solved his problem. The Soldier, his mind as clean as January snow, would leave his student behind for the Shiites to rape and kill and blame on the Americans. Her English was impeccable and she was loyal to the Soviet Union. Her sacrifice would be for the good of Mother Russia.

The lab where the Soldier was being awakened was cluttered with machines and gadgets that served some purpose although Zola couldn’t figure it out by looking at them. Sgt. Barnes, nude, was laid out on a table under a heat lamp. Fluids were being pumped into and out of his perfect body while an IV emptied some ghastly concoction into his human arm. Zola touched the metal arm that was strapped securely to the table. It was more of a caress, an admiration of fine art. Barnes had been twenty-five when he had landed quite literally in Russian hands. It wasn’t until 1954 that Zola had found and reconnected with his greatest experiment. 

Dr. Erskine had said his formula enhanced the subject’s qualities. Sgt. Barnes was a scrapper and tough; over the years he had proved this to be true. Gazing down the perfect young male body, a living work of art, he thought it was too bad Capt. Rogers had perished on the Valkyrie. Matching the two against each other would have been spectacular. Laying his hand on Barnes’ body where the artificial arm connected with the reinforced skeleton, he looked for any sign of disconnection or new damage.

Zhukov watched Zola with disgust on his face. No one had ever accused Zola of being interested in boys or even girls, but the way he touched Sgt. Barnes was almost the touch of a lover.


	2. The Sacrifiical lamb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha thinks she knows what's going on, and the Soldier remembers something.

The matron looked at the nineteen year old woman with a curious bright shine in her eyes. “So this is your moment to prove your worth, your loyalty to mother Russia,” the woman said almost gleefully.

“Yes, Comrade Oksana, a wonderful moment,” the younger woman with the short red hair replied. That morning they had cut her hair to make her look more like a young American soldier saying it would still be noticeable in the hot Iranian sun, although Natasha Romanoff was not certain Iran was hot where they were going.

Where they were going. The thought created a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. She was going to Iran with her teacher to surrender to the Iranians as proof the Americans were helping the Sunnis against the Shiites. Comrade Oksana assured her that she would be rescued once the Iranians knew it was the Russians who were their real allies. 

“Is she ready?” Comrade Nikolai asked when he entered the room.

“I would swear she was an American,” Comrade Oksana crowed proudly. The American uniform was a drab green, traditional military uniform of the US Army, something the CIA also wore. Her boots were American issue as were the belt and buckle and cap on her head. The stripes on her left army said she was a corporal. The side arm was a US Army Colt taken during the great war from a fallen American officer.

“Now you understand the situation with the Winter Soldier?” Comrade Nikolai asked.

“Yes, comrade. I am in no way to engage him in chit chat, and I am to do exactly as he says.”

“Correct. Nor are you to mention his inappropriate actions prior to his reconditioning.”

“Yes. Comrade,” Natasha said, although she had not known his actions had been inappropriate at the time. Something about the man’s smile had warmed her in a way she had never felt before, and the single kiss on the cheek he had given her had created a wonderful confusion in her heart. Now she knew he had been wrong to kiss her. He will be better now, professional and Mother Russia’s greatest weapon. 

“Let us go now,” Nikolai said and held the door open for her.

In the yard outside a drab gray military truck was waiting for her. In the back of it a pair of horses gazed at the people through the slats. One glance told her they were not Russia’s renown Arabians or Tekes. These were ordinary looking horses, one a bright red with a black mane and tail and the other brown and white horse.

The Winter Soldier climbed out of the cab and held the door for Natasha, evening giving her a hand up. The driver, a shaved head mustachioed man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, started the truck up and fought it into gear. Squeezed between the two men, Natasha grabbed the dash as the truck lurched into motion. They were not going to stop until they reached Armenia. Tajikistan was closer but they needed to enter Iran from Turkey. Glancing at the Soldier who was studying an unfolded map she remembered the chaste kiss on the cheek he had given her one evening after practice. They had been caught by Comrade Oksana who had passed the information along to his superiors. According to them, he no longer remembered, a good thing, really. 

With nothing to do but stare out the front window, the driver’s Turkish cigarette threatening to suffocate her and the Soldier impervious to everything but the map in his lap, Natasha decided time would go much quicker if she leaned her head back and slept.

The Winter Soldier did not raise his head from the map until the woman’s head lolled on his shoulder. He did not like being distracted from plotting their escape route from Iran except she wasn’t returning to Russia with him. He had been told to leave her behind near Tabriz for Colonel Olaf Vsevolod to find. Looking at her pale face, he thought she looked much too young for this mission. A more seasoned soldier might be able to get away and survive the fate awaiting her. 

South of Volgograd they stopped for the night. The terrain was hilly and in the distance like a dark cloud on the skyline rose the Caucus Mountains. Leading the pinto off the truck the Soldier threw his gaze towards them. They were going to cross the mountains on horseback when they came to them but there was still one more day in the truck before going off on their own. 

“Take care of your horse,” he told the girl Comrade Natasha, only it was hard for him to think of her as a comrade. She looked like a girl to him, although the dozier said she was nineteen. 

“I know nothing about horses, Comrade Soldier,” she confessed and watched as he rubbed the horse down with bits of straw.

“Lead him out of the truck and tie him beside mine,” Soldier said and tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. He did not know why he was angry, but the emotion was there just below the surface of his skin.

Natasha climbed into the truck and stopped when the horse turned his head and whickered softly at her. “Don’t kick me,” she said and reached for the tie rope. The horse’s ears went up when she untied the rope and turned him around. She got out of his way just as he leaped off the back of the truck. Soldier cursed and grabbed the rope before the horse got away. “I’m sorry. Comrade,” she apologized. 

“Keep the rope firmly in your hand and do not let him do that again,” the Soldier chastised her. “If he breaks a leg you will be on foot. Now rub him down and become acquainted with him. When we are finished we will put them in that pen where there is hay and water waiting for them.”

“Yes, Comrade Soldier.”   
Grimacing in frustration, he stopped her. “On this mission, you may call me Soldier or whatever you desire, but do not address me as Comrade. Nor will I address you as such.”

“Yes. Comrade…Soldier.” She stopped when he frowned at her, but no words were exchanged. Natasha essentially copied everything the Soldier did to his horse. If he checked its feet; she checked her horse ‘s feet. “Do they have names?” she asked curiously.

“If they do, I don’t know them,” he answered quickly.

“How sad. I think I will name my horse Eagle.”

Soldier threw her a disgusted look. “Why?”

“Because he can fly.”

“No, I mean why give him a name at all. You won’t be allowed to keep him.”

“I know this,” she said and smiled at the blood red head of the horse. Stroking his forehead, she added, “It is my choice, probably one of the few I have left.”

The anger within the Soldier bubbled up and threatened to erupt in curses and damnations, but he fought it down. “Then name the damn horse,” he growled and untied the pinto from the post and led him to the pen. 

“I did,” she retorted spiritedly but without anger. “And I am going to call your horse Jack.”

He wanted to ask her why the fuck Jack, but once more he suppressed the urge to engage her in this ridiculous conversation. “Bring…Eagle and put him up,” he snapped and turned Jack loose.

She complied with a smile on her face. The matron had said it was possible that the Soldier would get angry but that she was not to fear him. He would not hurt her. He was programmed to actually protect her. Following him back to the safe house, she found a bowl of borscht waiting for her, prepared by a large matronly woman who added a loaf of bread to their supper. Her husband, a member of the KGB who disguised himself as a simple farmer, ate in silence with them. He was a burly man with lots of dark hair on his face, on top of his head and at the collar of his shirt. His dark eyes never left her face even when his wife gave them some beer to drink. 

The driver whose name was Ivan or Ivor, she was not certain but not interested enough to ask about it, ignored the stare, but the Soldier noticed and frowned. “You are making her uncomfortable, Comrade,” he said quietly with just an edge of menace in his voice.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” the man asked curiously and exposed two missing teeth when he grinned.

Natasha started to answer when Soldier spoke up and said, “Do not provoke me, Comrade. I am to protect this woman until I hand her off to our agent; I am feeling quite protective right now.”

“My apologies, Comrade Soldier. I meant no harm,” the man replied uneasily his eyes running to the soldier’s face. Everyone knew the Winter Soldier was a notorious assassin and warrior. He did not want to tangle with the man over a girl. 

“Apology accepted,” Soldier countered and finished the rest of his supper in silence. 

The wife waited until they were finished before saying, “The young woman may share my bed. You men can make pallets on the floor.” 

Natasha didn’t know what to say. The Soldier dabbing a piece of bread into the last of his soup answered for her. “She will sleep outside with me. She needs to get used to it before we enter the mountains, but thank you for your kind offer.” He smiled at the woman, at least he hoped it was a smile. He could not remember what smiling actually felt like; maybe he had frowned. What did it matter? Pushing the bowl aside, he said, “Thank you. Have you a pump outside so that we may wash the dirt off us.”

“Yes. At the side of the pen.”

“Thank-you,” he replied and stood up.

Ivan gazed thoughtfully at him and said, “If it’s all right with you, I will sleep on the floor. It gets cold outside at night.”

The Soldier stared a moment at the man and then said to Natasha, “Come.” 

Natasha followed the Soldier out to the pen. There was a three quarters moon rising in the east, and overhead was a darkening sky beginning to glow with the light of a billion stars. Those who knew more than she said there was no God, but a part of her could not help but believe in some higher power. Staring up at the sky, she asked, “Do you believe in God, Soldier?”

“If He exists he’s not doing a good job, or maybe He doesn’t believe in us,” the Soldier said and unbutton the green military blouse and hung it on a post beside him, the white undershirt following. Pumping the water into a bucket, he tossed half of it on himself and the rest over his head.

Natasha stared at the streams of water flowing down his back and soaking into his trousers. He was a beautiful man. Scolding herself for such thoughts, she waited silently until it was her turn to use the bucket. The commanders had been so angry with him, and he had been angry with them, but in the end they had won the war of wills. If he broke conditioning this time, the punishment would be even more severe. She was to be a good soldier and not encourage his disobedience. If he acted like he was remembering improper things, she was to correct him as firmly as possible.

But what about her improper thoughts? Looking at the width of his back across the shoulders at his slim waist, she couldn’t help but remember that simple chaste kiss and how she had wanted it to become more. The commanders did not blame her for his disobedience; they had even congratulated her for exhibiting such self control when confronted by the amorous intentions of a superior. Little did they know that she had only been startled into inaction by the kiss. If the commanders had not interrupted them it could have turned into more. 

“Your turn,” he said and grabbed his clothes off the post. Turning to her, his hair dripping water, his skin damp and pale in the rising moonlight, he ran a hand down his midsection and lost the drops in the top of his trousers.

Nodding her head, she stepped up to the pump and removed her military blouse before filling the bucket with water. Glancing briefly over her shoulder she took note that he was watching her. “Are you going to watch me bathe?” she asked curiously, a hitch of fear in her voice.

“Probably,” he answered and slipped on the white undershirt.

“That would be improper, Soldier,” she warned him.

“Yes, it would be,” he agreed and climbed over the fence to enter the pen. Digging into the hay piled high for the horses he tossed some over the fence. “Our bed,” he explained.

She kept her back to him as she washed her upper body with the clear cold water. After all the dust, it was good to be clean. Glancing over her shoulder once more she saw him sitting in the hay watching her. “You should not be looking at me that way,” she said a little anxiously.

“Why not?” he asked, the anger returning. “Do men repulse you?”

Surprised by the question, she answered, “No, of course not! It’s just…” She stopped and looked away.

“Just what?” he growled.

She reached for the white undershirt and slipped it on. Turning to him, she said, “If you break your conditioning this time, they will make the punishment worse.”

Realization flashed over his face. “We’ve known each other before?” he asked curiously,

“No, of course not,” she lied, “but we both know the same girl. You were friendly to her. They had to reprogram you.”

Frowning he said, “I don’t remember. What happened to the girl?”

“They sent her away,” Natasha continued lying. “In shame.” He glanced down, fighting to remember a thought that didn’t really exist, and then he looked back up at her. “I serve the Soviet Union, Soldier, as do you,” she reminded him. “Best we not follow this line of thought.” When he stood up and walked away, she asked, “Where are you going?”

“To the truck to get our coats. We can lay on them. Grass itches.”

Yes, of course, she thought. Waiting for him to get back with the long coats, she watched as he spread them out over the hay close to each other. She feared they were too close to one another, but he didn’t seem to care when he stretched on his coat. With his hands under his head, he reminded her of a loose limbed wolf, strong and powerful. 

He opened his eyes and asked, “Are you going to lie down or stare at me all night?”

Embarrassed by his observation, she lay on her coat and folded her arms across her breasts the same as he did. It contained body heat and prevented any improper touching. Still as the night got colder she eased closer. The Soldier radiated heat, and she was cold. Hoping she didn’t wake him, she eventually turned her back to him and scooted all the way over

Awakened during the night by a stray dog sniffing around, the Soldier judged the danger level and quickly dismissed it. The dog was too fat and well fed to be a real stray. Realizing the Motherland’s sacrificial lamb was pressed up against him, he smiled and turned on his side so she could share his warmth. He knew they fucked with his memories, but there were some things they couldn’t erase no matter how hard they tried and one of them was the appreciation of a woman’s body. Oh he wanted to touch and caress her, to remember what it was like to be a man but he couldn’t. How many women had they stolen from his memories, a dozen, none? The anger flared up again, wasn’t he still a man?

Closing his eyes he willed himself back to sleep his flesh and blood arm wrapped protectively around her waist. 

When Natasha awakened, the sun was up on a cool morning. Much to he horror she was pressed up against the Winter Soldier with his arm around her, and she could feel his erection against her back side. This would get them both into trouble! Untangling herself she jumped to her feet.

The Soldier sat up, looked at the panic on her face and then smiled. “Relax, I need to pee.” Standing up he sauntered off to relieve himself.

All right that was interesting, and she also needed to pee. Looking around not seeing anything remotely resembling a latrine, she decided to take her morning constitutional behind the pen. When she returned the Soldier was waiting for her. The man and woman at the safe house had made some breakfast for them. Nothing fancy but filling.

“This will be your last home cooked meal,” the Soldier said as they walked back to the house.

“For while,” she agreed with a smile on her face.

The Soldier almost asked her if she expected breakfast in Heaven but stopped. Did she not know that she wasn’t coming back?


	3. first night in the mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha learns the truth as does the Winter Soldier.

The Soldier had his map open on the ground studying it closely with an intense look on his face. Because of American spy planes and flyovers, because of traitors in general, they were going to be going off on their own shortly. The Caucasus mountains ran from the Caspian Sea on the East to the Black Sea on the west and were divided into the Greater Caucasus and Lesser by a wide flat river delta between them. The region was labeled Soviet Georgia, but there were more Russian troops in SSR Georgia than Georgians. On its southeastern border was Armenia. Due south was Turkey. When it was time to escape, the Soldier was to enter Turkey then ride hard back north for Armenia. It was imperative that the Iranians believed he came from Turkey. 

The map showed that the longer route would be easier on the horses. Follow the Black Sea coast and then cross the valley, but with all things there would be more people there. Everyone and their nephew would see them and report strangers to the authorities. On top of that the Americans and their allies did not recognize the Black Sea as belonging to Russia. Too many eyes!

Places to avoid? Chechnya and Azerbaijan, both to the east of them. One was loyal to Iran, the other loyal to no one. Grabbing the map off the ground and folding it carefully before returning it to his breast pocket, he stood and looked around to see what Natasha was doing. He didn’t have to look far; the girl was playing with the horses. For a moment he watched spell bound as she chased the two animals in their pen, but it was not about capture or control; she was playing with them and for a moment he imagined how soft and warm she would be. Anger reared its ugly head. So much anger. It made no sense.

She saw him watching her and ran to the fence and leaned over it. “There is coffee and food if you are hungry,” she said with a bright smile on her face. “I did not want to disturb you while you were studying your maps.”

“Thank-you,” he replied awkwardly, feeling as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Turning away to get some breakfast, he stopped for a moment and glanced back. She was laughing at the horses, pushing Jack’s muzzle playfully away from her while the other horse crowded her. 

So much anger.

It took most of the day to reach the dropping off point, a clearing not far from a little picturesque Georgian village. Behind them…hills….before them the Greater Caucasus mountains rising wild and beautiful into the sky. 

“Are we going into them now?” she asked as they unloaded the horses.

“We have a few hours before dark,” he answered and reached for his saddle tied to one of the slats. “The sooner we disappear, the sooner we disappear.”

Natasha never questioned his decision; she had been told not to. Watching him cinch up the horse, she looked at Eagle and copied him.  
“Put a blanket on first,” the Soldier corrected her. “Always a blanket first.”

“Yes, of course,” she said and looked for hers. Finding it buried in the straw, she wondered which horse had hid it there. They were both pretending to be innocent of the offense, so there was no telling. “Did you do this?” she asked Eagle, but he wasn’t speaking. Laughing at the horse she patted his neck and threw the blanket on his back. The saddle came next. Cinching him up she stepped back to admire her work.

“Is it tight?” the Soldier asked and slipped his fingers between the cinch and horse’s belly. “It’s loose. He sucks in air and then lets it out. Horses can be tricky,” he scolded her.

“My apologies,” she replied with a smile on her face. Even though they were on a mission, this was not a time for deadly seriousness. That would come later. Right now the cool air, tall trees and wild mountains beckoned to her young heart and spirit, and even though the Soldier did not remember their friendship…almost romance…she did. For the first time she felt sorry for him. How did they make him forget her? Did it hurt? 

“Try not to act so foolish,” he softly corrected her and turned away.

“I don’t know how to act old like you,” she retorted and grinned when he glared back at her.

“I’m not old,” he growled as the truck rumbled away. Tieing his long coat behind the cantle, he mounted Jack and waited for her to figure out how to get on Eagle’s back. It took a few attempts but she finally made it. “And tell me, why did you name my horse Jack?”

“He reminds me of the jack of hearts in a card deck,” she replied and picked up the reins. “I’ll just follow you,” she said with another smile.

He actually huffed as he turned his horse towards a trail that existed only in his mind. They were on Karbardins, not that that would matter to the girl, but there were no other horses that he wanted to be mounted on if trouble started. Mountain horses, they could climb to the moon if asked. He hoped they would not need them to do that.

Obediently the two horses, Eagle behind Jack, entered the ancient forest that had once harbored bison, wild horses, wolves and tigers. Sure-footed and steady, the most they did was flick an ear when something flushed beneath their hooves. The Soldier, wearing his rifle across his back, did less sight seeing than his companion, who wanted to see everything. Natasha stared up at the sky and then out across a ravine where a deer stopped to watch them pass.

“A deer,” she announced breathlessly and pointed. The Soldier looked but said nothing.

“Did you remember to bring your weapon?” he finally asked.  
“Of course,” she replied and watched water ooze slowly through a small creek they were passing. “It’s in my pack.” Something silvery flashed through the water. A fish! “Do you think we’ll see any wolves?”

“Possibly,” he replied as the invisible trail wound towards the right ahead of them. “We might also see bears.”

“Bears?” she echoed in awe. “Are they dangerous?”

“It depends if your constant chatter annoys them.”

“Then I’d better get my pistol out now,” she retorted, but he turned his face slightly to the left and she could see he was smiling. For a moment she remembered how a simple chaste kiss had excited an eighteen year old girl. There was something most unchaste in his eyes when he kissed her, unchaste and exciting. All she had needed to do was turn her head and their lips would have touched. Sighing heavily she tried to not carry that image any further in her mind. Still, wide shoulders, narrow hips…

Soldier drew rein when they reached a small clearing. This would be their cold camp for the night. There was water in their canteens and military dry rations similar to what American G.I.s ate in World War II. Not a glamorous supper but nutritious. 

The horses were tended to first. Rubbed down and hobbled, they were permitted a loose graze. Natasha split a hard tack biscuit between them.

“You should have eaten that yourself,” the Soldier said from his bed beneath a great oak.

“There’s not much grass,” she answered and made her bed beside him. “I’ll live.”

He folded his arms across his broad breast and replied, “I don’t suppose it matters.”

That was an odd remark. “You are such a fatalist,” she said indignantly. “I thought the great Winter Soldier always completed a mission.”

He turned to her with a stunned look on his face. “Oh be certain, I will complete my mission,” he told her. “I did not know you were so devoted to Mother Russia.”

“I do what is required of me,” she announced with a proud lift of her chin.

“Really?” he retorted in amazement and made himself more comfortable on his back. “Well, before this great sacrifice of yours, perhaps you could show some kindness to me…in the name of Mother Russia.”

Natasha frowned and then snapped, “What are you talking about?”

The Winter Soldier smiled. “You are so determined to sacrifice yourself for Mother Russia, I thought you wouldn’t mind sacrificing just a little time to me.”

This infuriated Natasha. Without thinking she sat up and slapped him across the face as hard as she could, enraging him in turn. He sprang up and grabbed her wrists before she could hit him again. Without thinking he forced her down and used his body to press her against the ground. She fought him and tried to free her arms, but he had her in a vice grip. Thinking it might help her, she raised her knee but he only grinned, held both of her wrists with his metal hand and reached down between their bodies to force her legs apart.

“Stop fighting!” he barked. “One would think you are a virgin.”

“I am!” she shouted into his face.

That stopped him cold. “You are a virgin?” he asked in disbelief. Rolling off her he started cursing, using every word in every language that he knew. She stared at him, tears clinging to her dark lashes. “I can not believe they would send not only a young girl but a virgin!” he hissed and turned back to her. “And you agreed to this?”

“They said I would be used for propaganda and then they would negotiate for my freedom. That you would be keeping an eye on me.”

The Winter Soldier burned even hotter than he had before. “They lied to you,” he quietly informed her. “I’m to drop you off and leave. You are going to be handed over to the Shiites to do as they will with you, which in all likelihood means some of the young men will rape you before they hang you. It will be over in a day if I have correct intel.”

Natasha gasped in horror. Suddenly she lunged at him and grabbed his leg. “Please, don’t do this! I will do anything you want. Please, I don’t want to die.”

He looked down at the frightened girl, saw the tears in her eyes and cursed himself for telling her. He had his orders. She pressed her face against his thigh and wept. “I did not know,” she sobbed. In an act of desperation she raised her head and grabbed the front of his fatigues. Without thinking she opened the first button of his fly.

“No!” he snapped but that did not stop her. “No!” he repeated and backed away. 

She tried to crawl after him but stopped and fell into the leaves. Rolling on her back she fought to control her hysteria, to control the sobs that racked her body. “How can they do this?” she asked the sky that she could just see through the leafy canopy overhead. He moved behind her and returned to his bed and sat down watching her. She did not move or speak again for many hours.

So this was it. He knew she was going to be sacrificed and had thought her foolishly brave, when the truth was simpler; she had not known. Sitting up and wiping her face, she gazed thoughtfully at him, the long darkening shadows accentuating the sharp curves in his face. In the full light of day there was a boyish fullness about his face, but at the moment he looked like the killer he was…a deadly beauty.

“I suppose there is nothing to do but decide if I am going to die a coward or be strong,” she said and got up. Returning to her bed she lay back down and folded her arms over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly. 

“You are doing your duty to Russia,” she answered.

“I mean for trying to rape you,” he explained and made himself comfortable.

Deciding it really didn’t matter anymore, she answered, “Once you kissed me on the cheek. They saw it and punished you. Told me I was not to blame because you could not control yourself. There were nights after you disappeared that I dreamed we had done more.”

He rose on his right elbow and stared at her. After a moment he said, “Still…what I tried to do is not me.” 

"Then maybe you will show me You before you have to leave me behind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the land between the Caspian and Black Sea was once a hotbed of politcal intrigue at one time. Russia, Georgia, Armenia, Azebaijan, Chechnya, throw in Turkey and Iran with Iraq just a stone's throw away and everything that could happen almost did.


	4. blood and semen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and the Soldier find love and comfort with each other.

No words were spoken between them the next day; Natasha had a lot on her mind. The fact that ‘they’ had lied to her was among the many thoughts that fought for dominance in her mind. She also wondered if she might try to convince him to let her live again without the tears and dramatics. There was also the insane idea of running way of going to the Americans and begging for protection.

When they stopped for camp at the foot of another peak in a picturesque valley, they weren’t far from a small farm. They had passed it an hour back, and she had noticed the well. “What if I ride back and ask for some fresh water,” she offered before unsaddling her horse. They had been riding at a leisurely pace, and neither animal was showing any stress or weariness.

“No,” he answered without hesitation as he rubbed Jack down with some dry grass that he pulled out of the ground. 

Well that dashed her hopes for a little clean water to wash off with. Unsaddling Eagle she managed to rip a few blades of grass out of the ground to rub the sweat off. Trees were thin this high up, more like shrubs with lots of boulders scattered around them. Earlier in the day they had passed an ancient Armenia church, exotically beautiful in its ruins. She had wanted to stop and look inside, but the Soldier had no interest in anything. The instructor who had befriended her before becoming reconditioned was not there.

A few more hours of silence. Natasha allowed herself a moment of peace staring up at the darkening sky. They were on top of the world, the sky turning purple before going black. And then that moon! It was gorgeous! Almost romantic. She imagined somewhere on this mountain a pair of young lovers were staring at the same moon. She glanced at the Soldier and saw he was lying on the ground with his saddle under his head and his coat beneath him. “Do they cut your heart out every time they reprogram you?” she asked, unsure if he was awake and heard her or not.

He opened his eyes and cut them towards her. She expected him to be irritated but he didn’t sound it. “What do you want me to do?” he asked tonelessly.

“I don’t want to die the way you say I will. Maybe you can shoot me.” He frowned and sat up at least she thought he frowned. It was hard to see his face clearly even with the rising moon. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he stared towards another mountain range, black and shapeless in the distance. He didn’t return comment. Lying back down she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but the ground was hard and rocky, and she was upset again, the tears squeezing beneath her lashes, but this time she was not going to make a fool of herself.

The Soldier stood up and wandered a short way from their camp to relieve himself. He knew she was upset, but it wasn’t his fault that she had agreed to an assignment that was not going to turn out well for her. Damn it! Dammit! Dammit to hell! He had been angry that she was sacrificing herself for the good of Russia, but now that he knew she had been  
misled, he was avoiding all talk about it. Coward! He was a goddamned coward.  
Buttoning his fly back up, he returned to the camp and jerked everything he had off the ground to move closer to her. “So, all right, I don’t like this any more than you do,” he began wearily having thought about it all day. “We’ve got a week or two to work out a plan, but running away is not an option. They would hunt us down and kill us. Going to the Americans is also not an option.”

She sat up and stared down at his shadowed face with a smile of relief on hers. He was going to help her! She wasn’t going to die. Without thinking she leaned over and kissed him. It was supposed to be one of gratitude, quick and chaste, but he was so hungry for affection that he caught the back of her head and held her. He wanted more, needed more…craved what she so innocently offered, but just as quickly he released her. This would only lead to pain. Losing her balance, she fell on him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly and pushed herself up right. Torn by her own emotions now unleashed, she wanted the same thing he did. Even his scent inflamed her passions. She wanted him. And just because the Red Room was obsessed with their hymens didn’t mean the young women sent there didn’t know how to pleasure a man in other ways. Close enough to see the agony on his face, she slid her hand down his fatigues and folded her hand around his cock. 

“It would complicate things… more,” he answered desperately and laid his hand over hers. To be touched intimately felt so good, but he was certain those moments in his past had been singled out and removed during the reprogramming. Still. 

“Let it,” she said and lowered her head to his shoulder. “They were sending me to my death,” she reminded him and slowly squeezed him. “Who cares?” She turned her face to his neck and nuzzled him. He tasted of salt. Freeing her hand slowly running it up his body, feeling the tension in his muscles, she took his ear lobe between her teeth and slowly sucked it.

The Soldier stopped resisting. He moved so suddenly it frightened her. Now over her, he stared down into her pale face illuminated by moonlight. How could anyone send such beauty off to be slain? How could anyone expect him to honor such an assignment? The Soldier who could not remember his name felt need and hunger. He dropped his head and kissed her tenderly at first, and then with growing passion. Impatient to get her undressed he fought with the buttons on her blouse, but she laughed and eased him back. Unable to look away from his burning eyes, she unbuttoned the green shirt and opened it. He wanted her naked. Yanking the white undershirt up he tried to free her breasts from the military grade bra, but it would not yield. She chuckled again and sat up. Now he could unsnap her bra and pull the undershirt over her head. Nothing hid her breasts from his gaze now. Careful, oh so careful, he cupped them in his hands, felt their weight and leaned over to take one tender nipple into his mouth. He loved the way it tightened in his mouth and the soft sounds of pleasure that she made in spite of herself. 

She finally threw back her head and moaned while stroking his dark hair, a shiver of pleasure rippling down her spine to settle in her groin. “You need to undress,” she panted and pushed against his shoulder.

He raised his head, the look of lust burning in his eyes. Sitting up he attacked the boots, cursing them because they took so long to unlace. Natasha smiled as she watched him fight with his clothes, but the moment he was down to skin, she was certain she was viewing male perfection. “Let me touch you,” she said and leaned forward. He was standing and his silhouette was that of a young god. 

He stood as still as he could while she ran her hands over his thighs up to his erection. Unashamed she took him into her mouth and slowly sucked and licked on the swollen shaft. “Natasha!” he exclaimed in desperation and fought to keep the orgasm from rushing through his loins into her mouth, but she stayed with him, hefted his balls and took all he had to give.

Unsettled by his actions, sensing that he had cum too quickly, he braced his hands against her shoulders and wondered if she was going to get mad, but she didn’t. Instead she continued stimulating him orally, using her mouth and tongue, hands and fingers to make him hard again. This time though once she had him thick and swollen in her mouth, she backed off. “My turn,” she purred.

Following his instincts praying they did not betray him, he threw her legs over his shoulder and buried his head between her thighs. To taste a woman, to relish in her scent, the scent of lust, intoxicated him. Nowhere in his tortured brain could he remember doing this, but his body remembered it. His body remembered the sweet pain of perfection, of losing control to the primeval. Of savoring a lover’s body.

Natasha buried her fingers in his hair. “There,” she gasped as something unknown but wonderful swelled inside of her. That one place, that one spot, he focused on it with his tongue. Suddenly she felt as if she was falling apart, shattering into a million pieces to be rebuilt and fall again. He moved upwards and buried his cock in her tight pussy. Too tight? He stopped moving and stared at her face. “It’s all right,” she said uncomfortably. “Please don’t stop.”

He was too far gone to really stop. Slipping his spine he fucked her slowly while she kissed his chin and the side of his face. What minor sting she felt was nothing to the pleasure of watching him rediscover his manhood. When he raised himself off her body, she stroked his sweat slick breast and rolled his nipples between her fingers. He picked up tempo and surrendered once more to the sensations racking his body, to the emotions unleashed in his mind and heart. When he finally collapsed on her body, neither released that where they were still joined blood and semen congealed on the ground. Neither could know that the mountain they coupled upon had once belonged to a Hittite god whose purpose was to protect lovers that blood and semen was the very essence of life. 

The Soldier felt an overwhelming sense of weariness. He wanted to sleep. This was alien to him, this need to sleep. Drawing Natasha close, using the heat of his body to keep her warm, he closed his eyes and passed out.

Natasha snuggled close to his body and closed her eyes. She would have loved a bath or at least a damp washcloth, but she also didn’t want to disturb him. Sleep came gently, and it should have lasted until sunrise but something awakened her in the early hours of the morning. They had changed positions and she was on her back while he used her abdomen as a pillow. Listening for that sound again, she realized the sound came from him. He was crying. Did she need to do something or ignore him, let him have this moment to himself? 

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently and stroked his head.

He sat up and turned away. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to disturb you.”

She instinctively wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his back. “What upsets you?”

“I’m not really sure,” he answered with a tight laugh and held on to the hands that joined over his heart. “I have heard people speak of God, but if he’s real why did he let this happen to us?”

These were questions she could not answer. She had been told there was no God, but some older people said that was just propaganda. Planting a light kiss on his back, soaking up the heat radiating from him, she said, “We can only live one day at a time That is the only way I know how to survive.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Who told you that nonsense?” he asked/

“You did.”

“That confirms it then. I am a fool,” he announced in disgust.

“If I may be bold, you are my fool,” she countered with a smile.

“But we weren’t lovers before?”

“No. Last night was the first time,” she said and released him. “I wish we had some water to clean ourselves with.”

He got up and reached for his canteen. “There is a stream on the other side of the pass,” he explained. “I can get some more there.”

Natasha didn’t know if she believed him or not, but it didn’t matter. She needed to wash off, as did he, but apparently he was in no hurry. The sun was up casting long morning shadows over the mountain by the time they were mounted and riding towards the pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Caucasus mountains are a land of magic and ancient gods including the protector of lovers.


	5. an army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and the Soldier cross out of Armenia and into Turkey where they run into trouble.

The Soldier awakened to a sound he was not expecting. A plane was flying through the mountain passes of Armenia that did not belong here. Natasha stirred beside him and saw that he was concentrating on the engine roar north of them.

“What is it?” she whispered against his right breast.

“American C-130,” he replied and sat up. He couldn’t see it, but he was familiar with the sound of C-130s from his time in Berlin. They were transport planes, but Russia knew the CIA was using them as spy planes. “We need to go,” he concluded and stood up. Today they were going to be running the gauntlet, cutting across the corner of Turkey to enter Iran. Turks, Persians, Soviets, any an everyone was going to be about and it was very possible that all of them would shoot first. 

For their own safety they donned the loose clothing of the northern horse peoples and Muslims they were to blend in with. Natasha, stained her brilliant hair a darker muddy color that would not stand out so much. The Soldier, his youthful face unshaven, could have passed for a Persian even with his brilliant blue eyes. Such things while rare in Persia were not unknown. The Turks would probably shoot them on sight thinking them either Armenians or Kurds. Anything was possible.

The horses, sure footed mountain horses, moved easily through the lush valley of the Kuras River which they crossed late in the day. Several evenings later they swam the larger Aras River. Moving quickly through Turkey, under the watchful eyes of Mt. Ararat they thought they were going to make the crossing without running into any trouble, but that was not to be the case.  
A Turkish patrol of one jeep and one troop truck rumbled out down a dirt road towards them. Machine gun fire stopped them.  
“What are we going to do?” Natasha asked, unable to imagine them surrendering to the enemy,

The Soldier stared at the two men in the jeep and wondered how many were in the covered truck. Maximum eight passengers. The Turkish officer in the passenger seat got out and unholstered his side arm, an American made revolver. The man yelled at them in Kurdish; the Turks hated the Kurds and vice versa. The Soldier could see only one way out and dismounted.  
“Get your piece ready,” he said and threw off the robe he wore over his clothes. Unshouldering the two pieces of his rifle he assembled it in front of the staring men. Stepping into the open, he watched as their expressions went from surprised to desperate. They knew who he was. Too bad.

With blinding speed and anger he took on the Turkish troops without a second thought to his own safety. Natasha, holding the reins of his upset horse and keeping hers in check, watched as he attacked the killed the Turks without mercy or compassion. The Winter Soldier was brutal and efficient, impervious to the bullets being shot at him.  
Leaving the bodies with their vehicles, he strode back purposely towards the horse whose reins Natasha held for him. She noticed a blossom of something sticky and wet against the dark fabric of his clothing, but he paid it no mind. They had to get out of Turkey and into Iran. 

Darkness was upon them when they crossed the border into Iran. Only now did the Soldier find them shelter for the night in the high mountains. It was also only now that he let on how much he was hurt, a bullet lodged deep in his side after bouncing off his right iliac crest. Making no sound at all he made a hasty bed in some leaves and sank into them. Natasha pulled the clothing away from wound and was horrified to see how red and swollen the edges were. 

“I’ll be all right,” he gasped and closed his eyes. “Just some rest.”

He did not tell her that the pain was terrible and that it was all he could do to control himself

Natasha prayed that was true because he didn’t look like he was getting better, Holding him close during the cold mountainous night, wrapped in both of their cloaks, Natasha feared he was going to die in her arms, but when morning came he was still alive. Ashen faced and panting for air, he had not gotten better. Rising from the bed of leaves, she got her leather canteen and fed him some water.

“You have to cut it out,” he whispered hoarsely. She did not question him. Gathering leaves to make a small fire to sterilize their knives, she stopped when he told her no. No fire.  
Troubled by their lack of anything medical, she stared at the wound and tried to imagine a way to take out the bullet without causing him to much pain. Did he want her to just reach in and take it out with her fingers, because outside of the knives that was all she had.

“Do it,” he panted, his eyes shut against the morning light. “Please.”

Human flesh is hot and pulpy, slick from blood and sera. The Soldier hissed sharply and bit his lip but made no sound as she felt for the bullet with the knife and her fingers. She could not bear to look at him and concentrated on the feel of his body beneath her fingers. Blood and infection squirted from the wound, gagging her, but she fought her own sickness down. Finding the bullet, using the knife to keep it in place, she grabbed the bullet, lost it and found it again. Slowly, carefully, she withdrew it from his sweat covered body. The moment she had it in her hand he sighed loudly and sank into the leaves. For him it was over.

Natasha got his canteen and poured the water over the wound. She could not possibly know this, but once the bullet was out, his body started healing itself. Doing her best to clean the area of blood and infection least they attract a bear or worse a tiger, she then set about some snares in hopes of catching a small animal for food. A very small fire would not be seen during daylight hours.

When the soldier finally awakened she had some small fat birds cleaned and roasting on a spit along with a squirrel. He said nothing, but his eyes told her how hungry he was. She took one of the birds and left the other bird and squirrel for him. Even without salt it was pretty damn good. Watching him inhale the bird brought a smile to her face. It never occurred to her to ask him why he was getting well so fast. He had a metal arm; without a doubt there was much about him she didn’t know.

Their bed was better made their second night on the Iranian mountain, and with all their extra clothing on top of them under the leaves, safe in each other’s arms. Natasha fell asleep against his shoulder, unaware that he was lying there planning their next move over and over in his head. Kissing the top of her head, he finally relaxed and closed his eyes. Somewhere in the night, miles from them a tiger coughed and scared the horses. Soldier opened his eyes and listened. The cat, solitary and rare, coughed again much farther away. Soon his kind would be no more. The Soldier pulled the girl closer to him, her supple body arousing masculine emotions. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes and willed his body to relax. No sex tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Caspian tiger was for all extensive purposes extinct although rumors existed of stray cats still living in the mountains. In addition to the tigers were leopards, wild boar, deer, and until the late 1800s the last stand of prehistoric bison.

**Author's Note:**

> 1958 was one of the most dangerous years in America's existence when the cold war could have easily bcome Hot  
> general Zhukov l..his troops were the ones who found bucky


End file.
